


once you know it's down you go

by juliabaccari



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 12:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18315614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliabaccari/pseuds/juliabaccari
Summary: a chance meeting on an august night, and the way in which klaus and diego are intertwined





	once you know it's down you go

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to my friend Zach for helping me edit and encouraging me to write this. Fair warning, it's stylized writing (you may noticed a lack of capitalization and some weird punctuation) - it's just what came out of me when trying to get into Klaus's head. I felt a more poetic style of writing worked for me, and him, but I know it's not everyone's thing. Thank you if you do choose to proceed from this point, I hope you enjoy! This is sort of part of a larger series of fic, but...who knows if I'll publish the rest?

klaus lives his life without expectations, which would normally prohibit surprise from entering the equation 

there are, however, factors out of his control  
(most things are out of his control, but some of that’s on purpose)

diego’s a surprise, though

they haven’t seen each other in three years, aside from a few quick lunches when klaus ran out of money and wasn’t too deep in self-loathing to ask for help and the times when klaus snuck into diego’s fights and hid in the back of the crowd, disappearing as soon as they were over

— without trying to clean the blood from diego’s wounds like he wanted to, without even imagining slotting his fingers into the spaces of skin that remained without bruises and making his own kind of wound on that beautiful spot where diego’s jaw met his ear

so it doesn’t make sense, for diego to be _here_

sure, klaus wasn’t expecting never to see him again. he always seems to orbit around back to diego, more so than any of his other siblings at least. he can’t bring himself to stay away for long, not when it feels so right - when it’s such exquisite torture to be near him. besides, diego always seems to find him eventually, one way or another. klaus might believe diego wasn’t actually that fucked up if not for his refusal to leave klaus in his past, where he truly belongs

but diego at a club? that’s new

klaus is lounging in one of the club’s booths, recently and gloriously high, wearing someone else’s silk kimono jacket and his sluttiest (only) leather pants

he came here alone, he thinks (though he’s not sure where he got the jacket), and he’s alone now

he doesn’t mind (he has no choice)

his limbs are so heavy, it’s just chance he lifted his head at all as diego walks through the entrance

he’s got more scruff than last time, and a brand new scar, still angry red even in the club’s low lights. he’s got attitude in the set of his hips, dark denim and - oh, a tank top, and he’s packed on even more muscle since klaus last visited his gym

klaus tips his chin back, messy curls pressed into the torn cushions of the booth. a shiver races under his skin. he wants to touch, and his fingertips trace idly over his own legs, marveling at the texture of the leather 

what if he got up and said hello?  
he tries to tell his body to do that, but it doesn’t listen, and klaus thinks that’s maybe for the best  
tonight’s maybe not a reunion night (they keep pulling apart and coming together, it’s become something of a routine for them), he’s got a storm brewing inside of him and diego would only make it worse, diego is the lightning to klaus’s dark clouds and thunder rumbling. klaus is dark and loud and chaotic, but diego - he is sharp and precise and bright and klaus will catch fire if he’s not careful

he slides lower in the booth, laughs to himself  
diego: lightning boy - no  
diego: the kraken  
they were superheroes, once, and look what’s become of them  
klaus, the séance, avoiding even the friendly ghosts  
diego, using his combat training to win money off of blockhead assholes who are into cage fighting of all things, and klaus thinks maybe those knives should be put to better use than cutting up rogue criminals 

(sometimes he likes the pain, but he doesn’t trust anyone enough)

“klaus?” occasionally, klaus wishes he were as invisible as his ghosts were to other people. this is one of those times.

he opens his eyes (when did he close them?)

“oh, diego, so happy you could join us” klaus spreads his arm in a mockery of a welcome gesture, the action taking enough energy that he closes his eyes again. it’s both easy and hard, to be with diego, even when the years pass between them. it’s the most natural thing in the world, but there’s nothing natural about the way klaus feels for him, not really

“is ben here?” he feels someone lift his legs, and suddenly he’s aware diego’s slid into the booth and dropped klaus’s legs back on his lap, like it’s all casual. like it’s fine

diego tends to be fairly standoffish, at least as far as outward expression of affection goes, but sometimes it’s different with klaus. sometimes it’s like diego needs to touch klaus, if only to make sure he’s real and hasn’t drifted off to become one of the ghosts that keep him perpetual company. it happens like this when it’s been a long time since they’ve seen each other, diego’s touches deliberate but carefully casual. nothing that would be strange for a pair of normal siblings. but they’ve never been normal, not from the moment they were virgin mary-birthed into this world, and growing up as hargreeves certainly didn’t adjust that. klaus isn’t sure where diego developed his aversion to affection, but he suspects it has something to do with the pressure of being “number two” to luther’s aggressive self-righteousness and (no doubt) toxic masculinity in spades

not that klaus doesn’t appreciate diego’s...masculinity

klaus laughs, louder than is strictly warranted. “haven’t seen him in weeks” he can’t remember the last time he was sober enough to remember his middle name (a gift from grace, of course), let alone summon ben

diego’s answering “hmm” is concerned, but who cares? he’s always so worried about something, so...tightly wound

his hand is resting on klaus’s ankle

“what brings you to my side of town, diego?” klaus murmurs. “chasing the riddler and the penguin, or something?”

“eudora asked me to meet her here. her sister’s birthday party,” he sounds tired. “i’m supposed to be socializing more.”

at this, klaus laughs in earnest. “she doesn’t know you at all if she thinks that’s what’s good for you.” he feels diego’s fingers tighten around his ankle, but he doesn’t know if the tension is from irritation or agreement

“well, it’s been three years. i suppose i have to compromise some time.” 

and oh, that’s right. eudora, his girlfriend. his serious, long-term girlfriend (the reason why klaus started pulling away from diego, though he’d never say it). klaus groans

finally, with agonizing effort, he opens his eyes properly and sits up, legs sliding from diego’s lap. he resolutely does not resent the loss of diego’s touch, and does not compromise by leaning his shoulder against the other man’s. not even a little

“where is she, then?” he asks, looks straight ahead

“not here yet.” is diego’s simple answer, and klaus feels him shift to get a better look at klaus. “you’re flying, aren’t you?”

“oooh, yes.” finally, he looks into diego’s eyes. it’s more or less torture. they are very, very nice eyes. “i would love to pet your eyelashes.”

diego frowns, “it would be nice to actually talk to you, you know.”

“you came to my domain, baby.” klaus says carelessly. “i don’t remember inviting you.”

“yeah, because you haven’t invited me anywhere in months, and the last time it was to taco bell and i’m pretty sure it was because you hadn’t eaten in a week.”

klaus remembers that day: he’d smoked three joints and been so ravenous, and he’d forgotten that he was avoiding diego on account of how much he wanted to sink his fingers into diego’s hair and learn what it was like to scratch along his scalp, feel every fiber of him. actually, klaus still really wants that. he wonders if diego feels like the way fresh baked chocolate chip cookies taste, and like the color navy blue. he thinks he might

he realizes, belatedly, that he’s inches away from diego’s face. to his credit, the other man is holding perfectly still, letting klaus sway into his space with a steady expression 

“diego,” the word comes to him so slowly. “diego, i miss you.”

“you have a funny way of showing it.”

“dear, i have nothing but some _very_ happy pills to offer you as apology, and i don’t think you’d like that.”

“okay.”

“okay?”

“okay, give me one of your pills.”

klaus almost sputters, would probably feel shock if he weren’t so fucked up. as it is, he feels a mild curiosity tinged with intrigue

“you? police academy diego? want my drugs?” he’s giggling now, diego looks annoyed

“i dropped out, as well you know. and it’s not like i’m fucking straight edge. yeah, gimme your drugs.”

“and what about eudora’s party?”

“what about it?”

klaus smiles, it feels like butter spreading on hot toast. he pulls back, reaches into his pants, comes out with a single pale blue pill. he’s not sure how feels about this, other than really - floaty, warm. maybe he’d be nervous if he were sober. but right now, the idea of being high with diego? it’s sunshine on bare skin 

he offers the pill, and diego - opens his mouth. for a moment, klaus can’t quite figure out what he’s supposed to be doing. diego’s tongue reminds him of a water park slide, and he wants to poke it, flatten it out. he also really wants to bite it. he laughs, until diego pointedly raises his eyebrow and gestures to klaus’s hand. 

oh.

“alright, baby, no need to be impatient, klaus’ll take care of you.” he laughs again, louder, just this edge of losing control, and delicately (as delicately as he can, when his limbs feel like half cooked noodles) he places the pill on diego’s tongue

he’s probably imaging the way diego curls his tongue around the pad of klaus’s finger, closes his mouth briefly over the digit before pulling back and swallowing. klaus’s eyes track the movement of his neck

“like a river…” he murmurs.

he’s sure this is a bad idea, it’s not like being high prevents that knowledge. he just doesn’t fucking care anymore

diego hums, softly. “okay, I’m gonna need a drink, too. you want anything?” he stands, presumably to head to the bar. klaus grins.

“anything. get me stardust. bottle the moon. a taste of the sea, my kraken.”

diego rolls his eyes. “i’m getting you vodka.”

“good enough.”

klaus wants to sink into this booth, he’s pretty sure he could do it. but he’s also - he’s struck by the sudden paranoia that if he stays here, if they stay here, eudora’s gonna find them and she’s gonna - she’s gonna take diego away. she’s already gonna take him away, she’s probably gonna marry him and have babies and sooner or later she’s gonna ban their drunken druggie uncle from coming anywhere near them - or diego - and he’s. klaus is gonna lose him. but maybe he can have tonight

he’s forced himself to his feet by the time diego gets back with their drinks. “let’s go to the roof.” he says, grandly, and accepts his drink with a little curtsey

diego raises that eyebrow again. devastating

 

“i don’t know -“

“trust me, in fifteen minutes you’ll be begging to know what the stars look like. i know the way, come on.”

“okay, but i should come back in half an hour, eudora will-“

klaus knows that in half an hour diego’s not gonna remember what time is, because to him it feels like it’s been nine in the afternoon since he took his last hit, but he nods anyway 

“sure thing, doll.” he drawls. he’s pretty sure his words aren’t even slurred at all

he takes diego’s hand. it feels like holding a tiny sun. it’s so warm, and it burns, and klaus thinks he could get addicted to this, too

he blinks and they’re on the roof, the full moon a wild goddess in the sky above them; there are no lights on this roof but the city’s ablaze, and he can see just fine

there’s a flash, and he thinks he sees electric blue, the shape of ben’s favorite hoodie

he takes a drink, and he’s alone with diego

klaus has studiously avoided being _alone_ (in private) with diego since he left the academy at age seventeen

“fuck,” diego mutters, sits himself down on the disused and ripped up couch someone’s left up on the mostly empty roof. “you really take some strong shit these days, huh?”

“is it strong? i hadn’t noticed.” klaus grins and throws himself dramatically down next to diego, careless of the way their bodies overlap

(he cares very much)

“yeah, jesus, are you even okay?” diego’s head tilts back, languid. klaus traces the lines of his throat with his eyes. he doesn’t pretend he’s not staring

“not at all.” he says, honest but barbed, in a way that prevents further sentimental discussion. diego already knows what brought klaus to this point, even if their reginald-shaped demons manifested a little differently

a lot differently, klaus guesses. diego’s not normal and well adjusted by any means, but has a job, and a girlfriend, and a place to live. klaus has dozens of fair weather friends who love his pretty skirts and the way he gasps and writhes when he’s high underneath them, and the rest is ashes in his hands

most of the time he doesn’t even have ben anymore, because he pushes away everything that’s even a little bit good. it’s because he’s running so hard to get away from the bad. it’s because he hates himself 

but in his dreams he still returns to that mausoleum 

fortunately, he can tell diego is slipping away from the part of himself that would push klaus into talking, that would lecture him for not taking care of himself. the lines of his shoulders smooth, his fingertips brush over the leather of klaus’s thigh

“that feels weird.” he says, quiet. there’s a small shake in his words, a breathless quality. the rise of the drug, the chains of decency and impulse control starting to break. klaus remembers that, vaguely. how good it felt to finally reach that high. now he only fears the drop down

“you should feel my fur coat. if i knew where it was.” klaus likes this, a little too much. but he’s known for his excess, not his restraint

diego turns his body towards klaus, and it makes him feel a little caged in, but he doesn’t mind 

“i wish you wouldn’t put this poison in your body.” diego says, inches away

“you seem to be enjoying it.” klaus points out, and somehow his hand has ended up on diego’s face. “what if i wish you weren’t out there playing vigilante, getting new scars…? would you listen to me?”

“i just wanted to spend some actual time with you.” diego’s breathing is slow, measured. klaus remembers his rarely-used power, remembers diego doesn’t have to breathe at all, if he doesn’t want to. he wonders idly (not for the first time) if there would be other uses for that than scuba diving. his hand slips down, traces the line of diego’s jaw. his stubble is rough, and it feels like taking a walk through a forest

“okay.” he says, soft and low. “okay, diego. but _this_ is who i am.”

diego shakes his head, slow. “no, klaus, it’s not. and i’ve known you my whole life, so don’t tell me i don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“you don’t - how could you possibly - there are things i keep from you, you know. and it’s been years since we lived in that house together” klaus tries to scowl, but the drugs aren’t interested. he ends up laughing instead. funny world

“you think i haven’t been keeping tabs on you? you think i don’t know you come to my fights?” diego’s words would be challenging if he were in his normal frame of mind, klaus is sure, they would be spoiling for a fight. diego loves a good fight - verbal, physical, it doesn’t matter

“if you’ve really been keeping an eye on me, you’ll know i’m not worth that.” klaus says in return, watching the frown deepen on diego’s face, watching him struggle for a grip on sobriety.

“don’t you ever - fucking say you’re not worth it.” he says, slow and measured. “i won’t stop fighting for you.”

and what the fuck is that supposed to mean, really

how is klaus supposed to respond to that?

he feels diego’s hand on his shoulder, heat radiating through thin silk, and he feels himself bend into the touch. he’s almost certain he could turn his body into liquid now, if just for the chance to melt into diego

“you should let me go.” he says, almost a whisper. diego would be so much better off without klaus. everyone is better off without klaus. 

“no.” diego replies, steady, fierce even through the haze of drugs. his hand is stroking klaus’s arm now, he probably doesn’t even know it but it feels so good

klaus flows forward, somehow gets a leg around diego’s hip, settles into his lap. it’s warm everywhere their bodies are touching, a soft sort of warmth - like candlelight

diego doesn’t push him off, just stares up into his eyes. and his pupils are so wide and so dark, it’s as intoxicating as the vodka

(klaus thinks he could make diego hate him, if he tried)

he lays a palm flat on his chest

he can feel the cold bite of metal under his palm, through the worn softness of diego’s tank, and he smiles, lazy

“nipple piercing, huh? naughty boy. guess you weren’t kidding about being less than straight edge. is this what got you kicked out of cop school?”

diego doesn’t betray anything, but he’s perfectly still under klaus’s touch

“it doesn’t work like that, idiot, it’s not prep school.” he answers. his attempt to roll his eyes is pitiful

“hmm…” klaus remains focused on his new prize, feeling the shape of the ring with his fingertips now, resolutely tuning out the sound of diego’s soft, heady breaths

“klaus…”

the shirt fabric starts to feel wrong against his skin, so klaus reaches for the hem of the tank, pushing it up and out of the way so he can get his hand on the ring —

diego curses -in spanish, klaus thinks - and suddenly he’s got a hand on klaus’s waist

“klaus, you - you shouldn’t —”

“hmm?” klaus is barely listening, the shine of silver filling his gaze, and then without thinking he’s leaning down to taste

diego’s groan is audible, and his other hand flies to klaus’s hair, and oh, that is nice

and then he’s being yanked up, and before he can offer a sound of protest (he really likes that nipple ring, they should come standard on gorgeous men) diego’s bringing their mouths together 

and that? feels amazing

klaus may not be great at much, but one thing he’s mastered is kissing - high, drunk, or stone cold sober he can keep up with the best of them. he’s quick to respond, rising up in diego’s lap so he can get the perfect angle. his hand cradles diego’s jaw, guiding him into opening his mouth just a bit

he’s not sure how long they kiss -it could be minutes or days - time is only measured by the amount of times he can make diego gasp into his mouth or squirm underneath him

he’s grinning against diego’s mouth, diego’s hand possessive on his hip in a way that klaus thinks might leave a delicious bruise, when he feels an insistent buzzing that he doesn’t think is drug related coming from diego’s front pocket. it’s...distracting

when he pulls his mouth back, diego immediately latches onto his neck, greedy and far more bold than klaus would have expected when he’s pretty sure he’s diego’s first experience with another guy

klaus wants to melt into it, literally and figuratively, but the buzzing grates into him, making his teeth hurt

“diego -” he gasps out, threading fingers through diego’s short hair. “diego, your phone.”

diego growls, and -

klaus is pretty sure a part of him bursts into flame at the sound of it

the buzzing doesn’t stop though and it’s starting to crawl across klaus’s skin like a thousand ants. with effort, he rips himself away from diego. his head is starting to ache, and he knows this feeling, he’s coming down - klaus grinds his teeth together. he both wants diego’s hands on him again and wants to get as far away as possible

god, diego has a _girlfriend_

the man in question is staring at him a bit glassy-eyed, and klaus isn’t sure if that’s the drugs or the lust, and either way he can’t quite understand that diego could ever look at him that way

“diego,” his voice cracks, just a hair. “your phone.”

“fuck.” diego mutters, fishes in his pocket with some difficulty (and oh, are his jeans a little tight - klaus is not going there right now) and pulls out his phone, small and battered and clearly barely hanging on to life

perhaps diego is fond of that sort of thing

klaus wants to go downstairs, get another drink, not watch this. he knows who must be on the other end of that line when diego picks up. who else would call him, besides klaus himself? if klaus was ever put together enough to get a phone, anyway

but he watches, self-loathing and some kind of need to punish himself tying him to the spot

“eudora, hey.” diego does a decent job of not sound high as hell, but his eyes are still glazed over. “yeah, i’m- no i’m not running late, i’m here. yes, i - jesus, eudora, i’m with my brother.”

brother. what a joke.

it feels like sudden sobriety, like a sharp pain that starts in his ribs and worms its way up into his sternum, and klaus wants to tear at his own skin and set his heart free of its diego-shaped cage

klaus looks down at his knees. he needs more drugs. needs to forget how fucked up this all is. needs to convince himself that this is all a dream.

“i ran into him here, it’s just been - yeah, awhile since i’ve seen him, i got - carried away,” at this, he meets klaus’s eyes, and klaus feels his heart stutter. fuck, it hurts. he hopes, wildly self destructive, that diego won’t remember any of this tomorrow. he can’t have nice things for a reason, he always corrupts them. diego will always hate him for this, if he remembers.

“i don’t know if that’s a good idea, he’s not - i don’t think he’s in the right frame of mind to meet people.” diego scowls. “i know i always say that. i know you’ve never met any of my family, and that’s for a goddamn reason, eudora, jesus, i can’t -” he runs a hand over his scalp, takes a deep breath. klaus wants to run a hand over his forehead, smooth out the wrinkles there. he feels so ashamed of himself, for not being a brother diego can be proud of it. he feels anger, too, at anyone making diego this upset

he feels like a fucked up asshole, wanting to be in eudora’s shoes instead of his own

he unfolds himself and gets up off the couch onto surprisingly steady feet. diego moves to stand too, and klaus suddenly wants to run away. he’s not sure he can stand diego touching him right now

“wait-“ diego says to him. “wait, klaus. eudora, i gotta go, I’ll be down in a minute, i promise, klaus just needs - he needs me -”

“no, i fucking don’t,” klaus isn’t sure why he’s so angry. he watches diego close his phone, slide it into his pocket, and tries his best to feel nothing. “i don’t need you - i don’t - you have a life, diego, and all i do is fuck that up but - i don’t need you, and you definitely don’t need me.”

diego crosses the small space between them and his arms are around klaus before he can protest. it’s not a revival of their early debauched intimacy, it’s just a hug, and klaus can’t help but let himself be consumed by diego’s embrace 

“i have always needed you.” diego murmurs into his hair, uncharacteristically sentimental but as frank as ever. “i love you.”

klaus’s heart cracks in two. in his mind, he sees lightning splitting a tree, a forest fire sweeping the underbrush. he pulls back, sharply

and then surges back in, all high tide passion, pulling diego’s mouth back to his with rough hands around his neck. he throws himself into this kiss, blissfully letting go of control for just a moment

when diego’s hands drop to his hips, start to slide their way down his legs, klaus forces himself to stumble back out of diego’s reach

“not the way i love you.” he says, softly enough that he half hopes diego doesn’t hear him

he practically bolts, throwing open the door to the roof stairs and racing down them, surprisingly lithe in his come down from his high, and he’s out the front door of the club without looking back

if there is a god - klaus isn’t sure, on account of all the ghosts - klaus hopes he erases diego’s memory of klaus’s confession

he doesn’t find out for sure, because he doesn’t speak to diego again for a year

he hears through allison (he and vanya are the only ones who attend her wedding, a hilariously mismatched pair delegated to the third row on allison’s side of the aisle) that diego and eudora broke up

he deliberately doesn’t ask when, but allison tells him anyway: they ended things way back in august

he calls diego again the next week, from vanya’s house phone, and meets him outside of bryant park for a walk, of all things

diego doesn’t push him into a tree and ravish him like they’re in some trashy romance novel, no matter how many times klaus wills it. he also doesn’t mention that night on the rooftop in august

(and maybe that’s for the best)

he never once asks where klaus has been the whole past year, and that’s probably on purpose. diego is usually quite blunt with him - he never skirts around uncomfortable subjects, not really. he’s quieter than some of their adoptive siblings, sure, but that doesn’t mean polite or dishonest. he demands answers from klaus even when time and time again the addict has proved himself a liar. so klaus definitely feels the lack of communication now. klaus isn’t quite sure if that’s punishment for his silence or embarrassment about their last meeting, if it’s regret for what diego did and how he lost eudora, if he wishes he doesn’t remember or if he really _doesn’t remember_

(it’s weird, though, isn’t it - how diego doesn’t even so much as casually brush his shoulder against klaus’s as they walk)

painstakingly, with a precision few think him capable of, he lets it go

he’s used to missed opportunities and unrequited love, anyway. if these things were drugs he’d never be sober, never have to exchange a night in bed for a good hit. he’s filled to the brim with the things he’s missed, rich on them

he looks over at diego, and when diego looks back, he grins and starts teasing him about the harness he’s taken to wearing (he wants to say are you into that sort of thing now, baby -- but for once in his life he holds himself back)

like it never happened

which is clearly what diego wants

so maybe they can return to what they were, in a way. with klaus an inconstant fixture in diego’s much steadier life, full of contradictions and erratic whims, drifting away and coming back again as he pleases like some stray cat that comes to feast on diego’s scraps

maybe it’s an agreement they’ve reached, silent but understood: august was a dream and nothing more

there’s nothing meant to be between them but a fucked up shared childhood and some occasional “sibling bonding” that’s mostly just klaus’s dark humor and diego’s frustration. and that’s okay, really, that’s - more than klaus deserves

yet he still finds it difficult to pick up the phone sometimes, he still leaves longer and longer gaps between their meetings, he still drowns himself in the drugs

he ignores the advice ben feeds him whenever the ghost is able to appear, he antagonizes diego even in their few precious moments together, he pushes everyone away as far as he can

he hates himself

and

he still loves diego


End file.
